A Tale of Fortitude
by Danny227uk
Summary: This is a first attempt at a story although not a true fic I think it should be ok


**A tale of fortitude**

This fable begins in a small coastal Viking town called Oohagrah (or oog as the locals like to call it) in the country of Scotland. We begin in the presence of Master Gilbert Crowfield, Bert for short, while he's at the steel mill...

**Chapter 1: Taking the good with the bad...**

Bert looked confused as his 'perfect' blade lay in ruin, bent, decayed and coated in thick layer of rust. "This blade won't even kill a bog bottle never mind a giant four headed figgron" Bert explained in a rather depressive tone. The blacksmith looked unimpressed as Bert began to bug him over the terrible quality of his crafted 'masterpiece' but, decided to ignore the insistent whimpers of the young boy and carried on with his work.

The shouting and moaning of a persistent little brat continued until the blacksmith turned and screamed in his face "THE BLADE IS BROKEN BECAUSE YOU BROKE IT!" Bert's lower lip drooped and began to quiver, he trembled at the knees, but the blacksmith continued ignoring these signs of fear "your blade has picked up an apparent infection, your blade is rotting..." the frightened child began to cry as his first ever blade had been shoddy and ill-treat. This time the hulking brute noticed the young warrior in training humiliate himself "Vikings don't cry boy, so get up and let's make you another sword but better this time" he exclaimed enthusiastically in a reassuring tone. Bert's face began to lighten up and he smirked un-expectantly at Hodges (the blacksmith) "pass me those ingots boy" Hodges grunted commandingly as he got a fire going on ol' Bessie (the anvil).

Bert began to pass block after block of steel composite to the hard and over worked blacksmith. "Hard as diamonds boy, hard as diamonds" he falsely exclaims with a twist of the tongue. Hodges face looked as if it was melting as the miniscule sweat droplets formed together for an endless river flow down a wrinkly bearded face of this old man. "Is it nearly done yet" Bert moaned "I'm tired" he complained again helplessly but Hodges was too shocked at the pure awe of his latest work. His sword was complete...

The sword was quite long and slender with a sharp pointed end at both the tip and the stock; the stock was rather chunky for the slimness of the actual blade. It has an engraved dragon pattern wrapping around the handle and a message in plated gold saying 'The mists sweep across the skies'. "This sword is the rarest item ever made, completely unique to you and will cut through anything" Hodges bellowed over exaggeratingly but Bert just frowned and took the sword from the cooling rack above.

"So, are we all set?" Hodges mentioned to break the deep silence in the room. "Err yeah I think so unless you have a sheath for my new sword" Bert persisted consciously. The blacksmith was feeling generous obviously as he had gave away an expensive and very powerful sword and a sheath especially made for it all in the same day but the young warrior didn't complain and took his leave to prevent over staying his welcome.

It was Gilbert's sixteenth birthday the next day so he was getting extremely excited by the thought of all the attention finally being on him rather than his snooty but perfect older brother. The young warrior walked up to lake Gloin and sighs, he walks up to the river bank and looks at his reflection but sighs again at how anti Viking he looks. Bert was quite short and very skinny compared to the average Viking, although he had a muscular physic, his strength was nothing compared to the other Viking. He had short ginger hair which was the finest Viking red and a deep and old scar to the side of his neck which he seemed to be proud of, he always said it showed his fortitude but everyone laughed at him purely because most people didn't know what it meant. The main important thing that made him superior to other Viking is he had a brain power at least twice of there's.

Bert began strolling towards the town eager to meet his best friend Gord (which was short for Gorden) next to the well at the top of midrock hill close to the center of town. "Hey Bert" Gord shrieked when he approached frantically as if to say the end of the world had came but Gord had always been a little bit crazy. He was just as small as Bert but even more so with a light hazel nut hair colour and his eyes were an eternal blue. his hair was short, dirt ridden and had a very large cows lick at the fringe nothing compared to the more handsome and lady friendly Bert who had similar eyes but with a tint if green mixed in, short fluffy hair that stuck up at the scalp time after time and a smirk that put girls to there knees (or at least he wished) but basically a lot more charismatic and handsome. Both of these boys were outcasts among the rest of there clan and found refuge in each other's company which is why they were best friends despite the constant arguing and battle for leadership between them. Gord had the argument that he was older and had more experience thus making him leader but Bert would disagree saying he was bigger, stronger, more intelligent and had more experience in the world of combat, socialising and civilisation as he spent a year in London training in adequate behavioural excellence (a training programme in all basic areas of life) thus making him leader. The battle never ended...

"I wanted to meet you to mention that our training begins in a week so be prepared, it's not every day you get trained by your own father in the ways of the Viking" Gord had sniggered as the words dribbled out of his mouth. "I know Gord, you don't have to remind me" Bert snapped back at him but Gord simply grinned as he began to walk towards the well "do you think this really is a wishing well" Gord enthusiastically blurted. Most of what Gord said was word vomit but no one would admit this to avoid hurting the small mans feelings and they did so to protect their own reputation from the neighbouring town Fraggramar which was full of Saxons who were eager to spot weakness among their invaders. "I don't know mate throw that dirty Saxon coin you found in and make a wish" Bert exclaimed gently chuckling under his breath but Gord just replied "nah, you take it" and handed it carefully over. "So what are you going to wish for?" he imposed giving Bert no choice. He hesitantly took the coin and reluctantly begun thinking of something to wish for...

The coin began to clink as it hit from side to side of the very deep dirty well...

Suddenly a rush of dirty, smoggy pink smoke emerged from the dormant well as Bert mumbled his wish repeatedly "I want to be something more" but his friend Gord was astounded and stood with his jaw encrusted in the ground. Bert began to chuckle insistently at both the well and Gord who was struggling to contain his shock. Once both the boys had managed to control their excitement they began to walk down the cobbled ground they called a path.

It was getting late and the sun was at the very peak of setting in the near distance which meant Gord had to return to his home and abandoned his anticipant best friend who seemed to be looking out for something or someone in particular. A sudden rustle sounded from a local bush so Bert turned swiftly towards the noise, to his disarray a young and very attractive girl emerged half covered and shivering.

She had the most incredible eyes in a deep tint of brown which were like gateways to heaven and back and her dark wavy hair swept across her face gracefully as she collected herself, her beauty surpassed perfection and even the almighty gods were jealous, or at least the angels. She looked panicked and was shaking in a strange tremor so Bert approached cautiously to prevent further shock although it was Bert who seemed to be in more of a state in what he had just saw.

As he got closer to the girl who was now huddled in a ball next to the bush she had came from he also got weaker, Bert could now feel his blood running cold and his legs trembling like jelly in the wind, his face began to pour with sweat and he could feel his soul being tore a little more from his body with every step. She turned and starred as the man grew ever closer but it was no surprise to her to see him falling at the last hurdle. Bert looked very weary now and was beginning to collapse but his persistence was unknown to many mortal men. He looked up dragging his face from the floor below to see her looking at him so using the last of his strength he called out unimpressively "Are you ok?" With no reply but a more shocked look from the girl he continues to decline in strength. As Bert reaches the girl he collapsed falling onto his back, he begins to mumble as he falls in and out of consciousness "I want to help you, please are you ok?" He grabs her hand tightly in his as the black void begins to sink deeply into his eyes...


End file.
